


We Roll Along

by piranabo



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, The Shame of My Caretaker, obligatory fanfic response to 3x05, season 3 episode 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piranabo/pseuds/piranabo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like Mickey hasn’t thought about it before. Kissing him. </p><p>(response fic to events in 3x05)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Roll Along

It’s not like Mickey hasn’t thought about it before. Kissing him. He’s not about to go on some queer-bo rant about Ian’s lips or his smile or face, but yeah. He’s considered it. Never would do it, though. If getting caught fucking a guy would get the shit beat of out him, getting caught kissing one would _kill_ him, not that Gallagher understands that. Mickey swears the Gallaghers have some good luck charm on them that makes all their problems close up and go away in fifty-six noncontiguous minutes. Gallagher said he’s ‘come out’ or whatever fags call it, to his sister, brother, Mickey was there when his dad found out, and they were all cool about it. The kid’s mom is a dyke for Christ’s sake--Ian Gallagher grew up around rainbows.

And Mickey? Well he kind of fucking didn’t. He’s pretty sure if he ever told any of his brothers he was flipping the fence, they’d break his legs. His dad would shoot him. Maybe not lethally, if Mickey was lucky. The only person who maybe wouldn’t give a shit was Mandy, but fuck if she can keep a secret like that. Gallagher was right when he said they had nothing to be ashamed of because that’s just what it was: nothing. A quick fuck with some puppy-face good-doer who has no idea what the world’s like. _I need to see you_ , he said like a seventeen or whatever-year-old kid knows what he _needs_.

He fires a shot by Ian’s right arm as the kid crawls under a tunnel, sun burning Mickey’s shoulders. Ian tells him to use blanks and Mickey doesn’t answer. Then Gallager goes on about how his wrinkle-dick’d grandboyfriend needs someone to rob his house, and Mickey just can’t stop himself from saying it.

“I don’t get what you see in that geriatric viagroid.”

Ian gets that passive-aggressive tone to his voice he’s been flaunting the last few days whenever Mickey talked about Granpop.

“He buys me stuff. Orders me room service.” There’s a pause and Ian looks at him. The uncomfortable intimacy of eye-contact. “He isn‘t afraid to kiss me.”

Mickey breaks the contact by looking away.

_What world do you live in?_

He saunters through his cousin‘s doorway, some shit and mud from the yard on his shoes tracking onto the carpet. “Yo, faggots, you wanna rob some old prune-tits’ house?” His cousins shrug and grab guns.

“We able to keep any of the shit?”

“Yeah, whatever you can grab,” Mickey says. He loads their guns into a red sports case and heads out to meet Gallagher at the moving van a few blocks from the house.

 _We mostly just fuck. Kind of like you and Angie._ Jack _shit_ like him an Angie. Angie’s poor as shit and a fucking girl over that. The entire Milkovich breed has sperm’d her, Terry included. Grandpa, meanwhile, is some rich-ass half-breeder who could probably get Ian outta this shit-hole if he really wanted to, and can do shit like buy him expensive wine and ‘room service’ at hotels with names Mickey can’t even fucking pronounce. And kisses him. Isn’t even afraid about it. Mickey bets Ian gets off on it—kissing the geezer while they fuck. Or maybe it’s queerer than that and they kiss outside the bedroom too, to say good-bye or good-night or all the other shit people kiss for. Whatever. Ian can kiss who he wants.

_I—I’ll miss you._

They pull up into Grandpa’s obnoxiously huge house, and Mickey and his cousins grab the guns. Ian says it’s just a drunk old lady, and Mickey thinks for a second then nods for them to put the guns back. The plan’s simple: they rob and Ian stays back and makes sure the van stays on because Mickey stole it for them, and he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to hotwire it again if it shuts off. Ian’s boyfriend offered to rent them a legit van, but Ian was in the room with them, and fuck if Mickey needs some old-aged testicle-sagging faggot‘s help with this shit. He waves off to Ian and follows his cousins up to the doorway then stops.

His mouth is frozen for a minute then he shakes his head and talks.

“Forgot something, one minute,” he says.

Mickey turns around and jolts back to the van, swinging around the edge of it and bracing his hand on the driver seat and, before Ian is even turned around all the way, crooks his neck sideways and kisses him, mouth rolling forward and back once against Ian’s. Then too soon and too late, Mickey pulls back and swings out of the van in one swift move, eyes not meeting Ian’s once.

_I’ll cut your fucking tongue out._

His heart is racing. His heart is actually fucking pounding and his breathing is suddenly a bit harder, and he rushes back up the path, giving Ian a wave but avoiding his eyes still. He goes into the house and makes trips, carrying useless rich people stuff to and from the house. His face stops burning finally when he sees Ian again when loading items into the back of the van, and Ian looks at him and after a second asks him if he’s gonna hand him the painting already or not. When Mickey does, their hands touch, and Mickey notices but ignores it to get the next load. After a few more trips, he share a look with his cousin at a huge grandfather clock, then proceed to forget how fucking heavy rich-people clocks are, and get crushed by it. Then Grannie in her nightie-whitey comes down the stairs with a shotgun to make everything more lovely, and Mickey and his cousins run for it, and Mickey gets shot because that’s all he fucking does now-a-days.

“Holy shit Mickey, you got shot!” Gallagher says.

“Yeah, I know I got shot!” he spits back, but the way Ian keeps a hand on his shoulder the whole rush home makes his skin hot and his temper a bit cooler. His cousins don’t notice. It hurts like hell, but Mickey’s had worse. At the Gallagher estate, Ian’s prehistoric boyfriend rips the bullet out of him, and the social worker walks in just as the wound stops bleeding and Gallagher's sister brags about flooring some bitch.

There is silence and staring then half the room says in unison:

“Oh fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because WHY is there only one other fic of this scene? Not okay. Also un-beta'd since I don't have one. If anyone is interested in beta'ing, comment or send me a message, maybe? Also, this is going to maybe be part of a series since something has to tie me over till next week!
> 
> ALSO, it felt very nice to tag a Mickey/Ian kiss fic with "Canon Compliant."


End file.
